Proud to be a Ponce
by balefullbrowneyes
Summary: In which a certain Hermione informs a certain blonde that he is indeed a ponce. Can the ponce accept this? oneshot. slash. HPDM.


**Disclaimer:** Now really...who ever takes disclaimers siriusly anymore? Fine fine...er. Whoo. Happeh?

**AN:** Somewhat a parody? And a bit of slash...no really, just a little.

The two boys were attacking each other's faces like McDonald's attacks a fat man's arteries.

Hermione was slightly intimidated by the fact that they could hold their breath and stay in constant motion longer than she could. And of course, she was shocked at the fact that Harry had a man, when after four years she couldn't even hook _Ron Weasley. _

Ponces.

Draco stopped sucking Harry's lips (after ruining any chance for him to possibly grow a moustache. Pity, she thought. Harry needed a moustache. It would make him look, well, better, as all men with moustaches can accredit) and frantically stood up, knocking Harry off his lap and to the floor in the process.

"The hell?" Harry said, while angrily glaring up at Draco and rubbing his hip.

"I just got this feeling that someone, probably a woman, possibly only a few feet from here, just called us 'ponces'." Draco replied suspiciously as he whipped out his wand and frantically turned about.

"Erm…Sorry to tell you, but someone calls you a ponce at least twice a day. In fact, I have to fight the urge to proclaim your ponciness every time I see you." said the brunette crossly. She felt his irritation was justified. No one pushes Harry Potter to the floor, thought Hermione loyally. And of course, she had learned this the hard way. Oh, the bad memories, she shivered.

She turned to look at Draco who had an OH NOES I'M A PONCE? look on his face. She thought he rather looked like he had just discovered he looked like a ponce. Excellent powers of perception, Self, she said to her…Self. She smiled a bit.

She focused on Malfoy again and realized he was looking at her. Though, she was only roused from thoughts because he started talking.

"Why are you smiling? Do you, the smartest mudblood in like, ever, _agree_ with Harry?" Draco said, offended. He shot her a hopeful look.

Too bad she was busy looking at Harry nodding furiously while waving his arms in the background to notice his adorable puppy-dog eyes. Poor Drakey never stood a chance.

Er. This was not good. How to respond? She pondered for a second. Aha!

"Um…well Draco, technically you are a ponce, seeing as you and Harry have participated in gay sex for the past year."

That was incredibly tactful, thought Hermione. She glowed with pride internally.

Draco, on the other hand, looked ready to burst into tears and said hysterically, "Just because I like colors and have a _fabulicious_ sense of fashion, not to mention by gorgeously silky Blonde Sexgod Hair, and just because I like to pet kittens while listening to the Titanic soundtrack, and maybe my **man**icures are a bit much, but they make my nails all shiny and sparkly and glittery, does NOT mean I am a bloody pon-"

He was cut off by Harry, who had been neglected (rudely, Harry thought, because, even if he insulted his be-loved, he still deserved affection and attention), and felt the need to shove his tongue down Draco's trachea once again.

Harry pulled back with a smack and smirked at Draco. Draco huffed.

Hermione went back to brooding about her boy-forsaken love life. Maybe she should switch teams like Harry. Pansy Parkinson has been looking a bit less pug-faced thanks to her new haircut. Or maybe she should become a spinster like Trelawney. She certainly had the hair, she mused.

But back to the situation at hand.

Draco huffed while Harry smirked.

Hermione was already bored, because she could tell it would lead to a) a fight, b) a make-out session, or c) both. Most probably c. She swiftly put her things back in her bag and walked across the common room, opening the painting.

"Oi, why are you smirking? You lost!"

"If I lost, how come there's a sign over your head that reads 'Ponce'?"

Draco gasped in outrage.

"You put that there yourself you prat!"

Hermione shut the door behind her, muffling the sounds of their fight ("Why don't you prove it?" "Why don't you make me?") and walked down the hall. Boys. She shook her head sadly.

**AN:** Eh, there tis. Hope you understood it (god knows I didn't)


End file.
